To whom it may concern:

When it is agreed that simultaneous messages will be sent on Wednesday, do not sent it at 11PM on Tuesday and say "I figured that it was close enough". In this case, one person* feels like an asshole because their people did not receive the invite on Tuesday and it now worried that it looks like they were added as an afterthought. This is why we agreed to a day.

No love,
Me

* not me, but I am dealing with the high strung aftermath.

I might just wear the jacket with black pants and a boob-y top.

Oh, that sounds verra hawt.

Also, sending smitey thoughts to those have caused Vortex to deal with DRAHMA

I have this awesome dress and jacket combo (shiny red raw silk), but the dress has a high neckline.

Red raw silk, yum. A high neckline wouldn't be enough, I am sure, to diminish the glory of Bert and Ernie.

I am almost fatally seduced by aqua blue despite the fact that it turns me a lovely shade of jaundice and I know this. Yet it doesn't stop me from trying to find the right shade.

Purple is this for me. I get my purple satisfaction from having several purple t-shirts to wear to for those times when my morale, which is significantly increased by wearing purple, is more important than how I actually look. Work is one of those times, for me. If I'm having a hard time convincing myself to get dressed for work, I'll try to wear a purple shirt. It helps. More than Richard Dean Anderson in the shower.

Bert and Ernie? Mine are Starbuck and Boomer. My sis wins, though, with Thelma and Louise.

I might just wear the jacket with black pants and a boob-y top.

Too bad those stunning red shoes stretched out.

So five years ago, I was on a cruise through Central America. As one does, I made some Cruise Buddies to hang out with while on the ship. One of them was a thirty-two-year-old woman who, according to my records, was the first woman I ever danced with, like on a dancefloor to music or whatever. We hung out with her little sister and some guys. At the time, she managed a Barnes and Noble in Berkeley.

I was at the Barnes and Noble in Emeryville last night, and I saw a woman who looked very familiar. I asked her what her name was, and it was her. She had no recollection of meeting me, though. None at all.

WindSparrow, my subconscious is like unto yours. I once had a dream in which I was trying to get my picture taken with Steve Carlson and Christian Kane, only to discover after they walked off that the data card was full of bellydance pics.

She had no recollection of meeting me, though. None at all.

Mindwipe? Maybe she's a Doll.

We need a new Nat King Cole song for you.

"Forgettable / that's what you are / whatsyername / I don't recall..."

Zenkitty, I knew it was you, I pictured you, yet my fingers typed libkitty. So sorry!

Mine are Starbuck and Boomer